2004 Tour home

May 24

We arrived in Marblehead, Mass. for dinner with Bart and Trent, his son-my one and favorite nephew. Trent is 25 and studying psychology and music at Salem State College. For the night, we parked on the street hear Bart's condo.

Bart had arranged for an oil change and brake check in Topsfield, a town north of Boston which I really didn't know about or how to find. However, that turned out to be relatively simple (with a bit of cel help). We left the RV and walked into town to eat at the one good local breakfast joint. It was fun watching the local retirees gathered around a central table jawing about the stock market and such, with that amazing New England accent - quite a contrast to New Jersey and the south.

I love patronizing smaller shops whenever possible and have found that certain kinds outclass their discount competitors even in the price department. Bike shops are a great example and this town had an inspirational one. Dave Smith, obviously a cyclist by his lean, muscular build, provided us with our next generation of wheels. For less than I paid 15 years ago for the last model, we got Raleighs, complete with shock absorbers and 21 speeds. This will most certainly encourage us towards broader experiences and exercise. To acquire and install a rack was more complicated and took us on a goose chase of neighboring Danvers where we found some incredible mansions and finally the Trailer Shop, who sold us the wrong mount. (We discovered this later on in Marblehead.) Having to store two bikes inside the RV was a motivating factor for a second trip to Danvers!

From there, we drove to Wonderland, which sounds something like Disneyland, but actually is named for a dog track located at the end of the MTA (now known as the T)-about as un-Disney as you can imagine. The train was waiting for us as we started towards Boston to take care of some family business. We were back to Marblehead for dinner with Bart at the Landing, where my x-sister-in-law and I had had our first paid musical gig in 1973. I wouldn't have recognized the owner with his white hair if my brother hadn't told me who he was. He had been a "bouncer" there 30 years ago.

May 25

My experience of Marblehead was a mixed bag. The town was just as lovely and quaint as always and sailing was still our shared obsession. (There are SIX yacht clubs!) On the other hand, memories of my life there in my 20s presented some difficult echoes and I found I needed time to be alone with them. (Photos of Marblehead)

I left Rob for some bonding time with his uncle and drove back to Danvers to get the correct bike mount. It turned out that I also needed a piece to go across my "girl's" bike so that it would mount properly. This meant a journey on my bike up the street to a bike shop. All in all, the people were very helpful and in an hour or so, I was back on the road to Marblehead where I found a natural restaurant and had lunch. There was a book there about the Hyde School which I took with me, a school whose goal is not just education but character.

After lunch, I headed out to Marblehead Neck, the most well-to-do part of town. I drove to the lighthouse at the end and walked Lucky around the boulders and benches until I was chilled and ready for a bit of rest. A call from my realtor woke me a few minutes after I dosed.

After a bit of cleanup and laundry sorting, I went back to Bart's. We ate pizza and then took turns dozing in front of a movie on lost Nazi Gold bars, made of Jewish gold teeth and wedding rings and then lost to Davy Jones and never found. So much for all the arguments about ownership and salvage rights!

May 26

With a day to R&R and just be around Marblehead, I caught up on the tlog. We went to the local Chinese restaurant with Bart's French mother-in-law, Janette, and then went over to her apartment for dessert which had been provided by her French neighbor, Janine, who joined us. We had a great time seeing Janette's paintings and eating Janine's cakes with ice cream. YUM!

May 27

We ate breakfast with Bart and then bid him farewell. Although Rob wasn't really that interested, we went to the Salem Witch Museum, which consisted of full-scale narrated scenes of the story of three girls who raised big havoc by accusing all sorts of people of witchcraft. In the 1700s, that was taken very seriously and resulted in dozens of executions. Rob said he thought it was very good for its low budget. I thought it was a pretty reasonable enactment of this story of cutthroat sensationalism - not just by the kids, but the current legal system. I was pleased to see that the subject of witches was covered in a more modern and inclusive walkthrough exhibit. (Photo of Salem Witch Museum)

Afterward, we were off to Boston. While waiting for the trolley, we grabbed a couple of sausages on buns at a stand. Yummy!

The Trolley Tour (glorified buses) was a fun way to see Bean Town, which, according to our guide and driver, had been just the north end, a 3-square mile area - now the Italian North End - before the rest had been created from wetlands which were filled with the results of lowering Beacon Hill. Around 660,000 people actually live in Boston, with around 725,000 commuting into the city each day.

Associating Ben Franklin more with Philadelphia, I was surprised that he had been born in Boston and educated in the oldest continually, still running school, Boston Latin, now in a different location. A statue of Ben stands on the original spot.

Stop 4 was the U.S.S. Constitution, the oldest fully commissioned Naval ship. Her 44 battles had all been victories as her 18-24 inches of good ol' American oak repelled cannon balls even at close range. She was in a battle during the War of 1812 when a British commander was heard to say she had "sides of iron", and the ship's commander took the nick name "Ol' Ironsides". (I always thought it referred to the copper sheathing on her bottom - not so.) The ship takes one or two voyages per year as she is towed out on the fourth of July and turned around so she is weathered evenly at the dock.

The crew of the ship were actual members of the U.S. Navy. Dressed in their whites, they were quite knowledgeable about this amazing vessel. In order to go below, we were required to be part of a tour. Did you know that to "mind your Ps and Qs" originated from wages paid in pints of grog and daily rations of water? You might be cheated if you didn't count. By the way, young boys(8-15) were used to get the ammo from the hold to the gun deck.

As the rest of the 80 or so tourists were clearing out, I asked some questions about things I saw around the gun deck. There were four bilge pumps with which the crew flooded the deck during battles. This served to keep the dust down and to cool things off. (Photo of Bilge Pumps)

Before the tour, we were able to just wander about the deck and ask questions. There was a strange looking metal corkscrew-like tool which we learned was for digging out junk from a cannon. Rob expressed that he didn't want to be there. Then he surprised me with an expression of grief about his dad. After that, he brightened considerably. (Photos of USS Constitution)

It was late afternoon by the time we left the ship and got on the last trolley to complete the loop, through Boston Common and Garden, past Beacon Hill and the State House. We heard about the Boston Massacre, Paul Revere's ride. ("Hey, you don't yell "the British are coming" during a clandestine operation!") and, of course, the Tea Party. We heard about the Big Dig, which was ahead of schedule but over three times more expensive than planned. (We had taken it straight to the North Shore without even seeing Boston that first day.)

In the five or so years that I lived near Boston as an adult and all the time I spent on Cape Cod - about an hour and a half south - as a kid, I never knew that Boston was built on a wetlands! Rob and I love tour guides for their strange and bizarre facts, their stories and their showmanship. This guy was pretty good. Boston has lots of history and plenty of crazy stories. I'll have to say that it is probably my favorite city to spend a day in.

We got on the T back to Wonderland, and set off for Maine. It was not easy to get to 95. The map and the streets seemed to be missing something - probably road signs. BUT, we still got through northern Mass, New Hampshire and to York, Maine before sunset.

Rob had been hankering for the experience of cooking, so he made tacos. I got on a cleaning jag - much needed after all the days of family stuff. The fridge was full of biology lessons, my room full of fallen books which hid an appalling crop of dog hairs. Things were a lot cleaner by bedtime.

Libby's RV park was right on the ocean, so any road noise was obscured by the surf. Great place!

May 28

We slept in and then around 2pm went to the Lobster Cove for lunch. Rob had said he wanted to try a Maine lobster and in this former New Englander's mind, eating a Maine lobster outside of Maine was not only foolish and too expensive, it was sack religious. Lobsters must be kept alive, best in their own sea water, until thrown into the pot. (Ever see Annie Hall?)

TWO ACCOUNTINGS OF EATING A LOBSTER

MOM:

With the exception of a good tropical orange and a ripe summer tomato, there is nothing brighter than a cooked lobster, colored somewhere in between. There are even colorful repercussions on the otherwise glowing white meat!

Two buckets (for the shells) arrived each with the required equipment: two small plastic forks, a nutcracker, a wet wipe and the obligatory white plastic bib, complete with lobster-colored graphics. (As kids, we had giggled at the tourists who actually used these silly looking things.)

We'll name the critter "Squirt", which made the bib essential, though Squirt's range was a wider spread. When separated at any of his joints, he exacted his revenge at our faces (my glasses), our sleeves or the table. The grand finale was when I separated his tail from his abdomen and a projectile of green goo flew in two great splats onto the rug. The waitress said not to worry.

Squirt was a good, thick-shelled fellow with sweet meat-tender in the claw, a bit tougher in the tail. Proper Puritan ethic dictates that you start with the claws. I twisted off the first one and SQUIRT right onto Rob's shoulder. To remove the meat, you must position your nutcracker across all the various oddly-shaped pointed joints - there are 4 or 5 - and crunch. The little forks are helpful for pushing or pulling out the meat in each small section. This is the warmup for attacking the claw itself. They are unbreakable across the long dimension and across the short, you might only crack one side before your cracker is fully closed. So it is a real reward when after various angular efforts (and SQUIRTS!), a perfectly shaped, perfectly red, but smaller, soft and floppy replica of the outer claw emerges. Each claw has the large side, kinda like a primitive hand and the small side like a thumb. You can rarely get both sides out together and when the extrication is defeating, one can always yank off the "thumb" and get that meat out separately.

Next, there is the more immediate gratification of the tail, either by slicing the underside with a knife or by detaching the tail and tail fins and pushing the meat out the large side from the back. I persevered with the dull dinner knife. You then remove the intestine, which is only as icky as the creature's diet on the bottom of the sea. Squirt had a pretty clean life, by all appearances. If you want to, there is still the meat from the skinny legs, which I inched out with my teeth, and the paper-thin meat in the tail flippers. There was no roe (eggs) in Squirt, so Squirt was most likely a guy.

Lobster meat is rich, especially when doused with the traditional clarified butter. One 1 1/4 lb. lobster was enough for the two of us, as we had consumed caesar salad in advance and baked potatoes. A fabulous wild Maine blueberry pie ala mode gave exquisite closure to the feast.

With the exception of a few corn chips on our way through the verdant hills of New Hampshire and then Vermont, I was done eating for the rest of the day. Rob's constitution may not be designed for or conditioned to lobster and the trimmings as his next excursion was to the "head".

ROB:

When I first saw the lobster, I thought, "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" Then my mom twisted off a claw and a meaty projectile hit me in the mouth and I got my first taste. It was surprising! I was expecting something along the lines of shrimp. However...

Well, you have to taste it for yourself. It is hard to describe. But when I got the meat out of the claw, and dipped it in butter and popped it in, it was pure magic. A big surprise came when my mom twisted off the tail. Green slime flew out and splattered all over me, my mom and the floor. All in all, eating a lobster is something you must experience for yourself, what with the cracking of the shell, sucking the meat out of the legs and seeing the decimated creature afterwards. You will either feel disgusted with yourself, if you are a PETA nut, or exhilarated as I did. -Robster

After lunch, we drove north through Algonquin, a picturesque coastal town, which was getting an awful lot of yuppie "upgrades". However, the lighthouse on a close island was exquisite. (Photo of Lighthouse)

We drove west on 101 which joined with 93 and then 89. These were major highways, but the countryside was green and lush and more and more mountainous. We took a side trip to Woodstock (How could this ol' '60s kid not?) My brother had said we should see it and it was indeed splendid. (Photos of Woodstock)

The only campground was full, so we proceeded north to Montpelier. It was Friday, the start of Memorial Day weekend. We were glad to find a space to camp.

May 29

We fell in love with Montpelier, the capital of Vermont, Howard Dean's old hang out. This has to be one of the most charming state capitals, if not towns, with the most amazing toy and book shops. (Photos of Montpelier)

Robin talked me into seeing Van Helsing, our first movie in a theater since leaving home. Here is his review:

Van Helsing is a movie about a man who works for the Vatican as a monster slayer in the late 1800s. There is a secret organization known as the Knights of the Holy Cross, in the Vatican basement, which supplies him with his amazingly cool Bond-esque gadgets, including a gattling crossbow, cool little spinning blades, holy water, crucifix, and silver spear, plus a smoking jar with an unspecified purpose. He also gets two pistols, a grappling hook gun and a shot gun and enough ammo to take out Transylvania. In order to make sure he knows how to work everything, along comes Carl, the gadget designer/inventor and scared little friar.

They get shipped to Romania where they ride to Transylvania to kill off Count Dracula and save the bloodline of a noble family, the last living member of which is a beautiful princess dressed in shiny black pants and nearly as well armed as Van Helsing. (How much does this stuff weigh?)

When they get to the village where she lives, they are met by an unwelcome mob wielding primitive pitch forks and sickles, led by the pale faced undertaker with his shovel, his grimace and amazingly horrible teeth. But suddenly, the three brides of Dracula fly in to terrorize the village and all but the stars run for cover. All hell breaks loose, including a flying cow which is sent through a house. Unfortunately, the vampires are too fast for Van Helsing to hit them in the heart with his crossbow. He dips the tip in holy water and takes out one of the vampiresses. The others fly off.

Along the course of the movie, they come across werewolves, the vampiric offspring of Dracula, of course the Big D himself, and Frankenstein's "monster", who Van Helsing can't kill because he is not evil and who turns into an ally. Not pretty, but it appears Frankie put his heart in the right place.

Best lines: VH to Princess: "He's nine feet tall, has size 16 feet, and four bronze teeth." "How do you know that?" "He's standing right behind you."

Scene to watch for: The final battle. Overall rating 4 1/2 Stars.

-Van Robbing

We went to the early show and then had a sublime meal at a place which billed itself as serving "creative cosmopolitan cuisine with Italian roots". The roots seemed a bit more Mexican than Italian, but the margarita chicken was out of this world! Served with a tasty rice mixture and black beans, this was in my top all-time meals! Rob had an equally great quesadilla and the Caesar was world class!

We got to the RV place near Ben and Jerry's around 10pm and played a game of 1935 Monopoly, which we had gotten at the cool toy shop. I stand totally outclassed by my son, the entrepreneur.

May 30

Ben and Jerry's was not just fun but delectable. The whole corporate attitude is about appealing to the "kid" inside. This was reflected in the decor, the displays, the graphics and the over-the-top ice cream - some of which we sampled as part of the tour. My favorite was Cherry Garcia. Rob's was Vanilla Heathbar Crunch.

A 6-minute movie told how Ben and Jerry had met in middle school in gym class, where they were both at the back of the pack - a most endearing quality. They were friends until they went their separate ways in college. Ben wasn't happy in college and Jerry couldn't get into med school. BUT they got perfect scores in their ice cream correspondence course!

In the beginning, B&J's was a store in an old gas station and lots of public interest on a very local basis. The company grew about 100% a year and they needed help. In the movie, that new corporate helper told about finding a mess with un-deposited checks and unpaid bills. He sorted it out and came up with a more corporate model. They needed to expand and he discovered that in Vermont, a company can offer local stock to raise capital. They were able to move into a larger facility and started selling their product farther a field.

Pillsbury, owners of Haagen Daz, started warning their distributors they wouldn't sell to them if they carried Ben and Jerry's. B&J's sued and ran an ad campaign against them. They rescinded their order. However, a few years later, they tried again. Again, Pillsbury was stopped.

The company was sold to Unilever which kept B&Js pretty much as it was and actually learned from some of their practices and goals. A goal from the start was to "give back" to the earth and the community. Some of the franchises are owned by non-profits for fund raising and there is a day every year when the ice cream is free internationally! All the milk is free of hormones and comes from a co-op of small Vermont farmers. The product is sold internationally and there are at least three other factories-including one in Canada, where the tariffs are high on dairy imports.

It was Saturday and they weren't actually making ice cream, but they showed the empty factory and a video and pointed out the different functions under large B&J style numbers hanging from the ceiling.

Ben and Jerry are no longer directly connected with the ice cream company and I was a bit disappointed that the presentations didn't go into more detail about their subsequent ventures, such as Sweat-X, the employee-owned T-shirt company in L.A. Unfortunately, the T-shirts in the store were not made by them. I asked if B&J's was owned by the employees and the tour guide, Stephanie, said that as part of Unilever, that wasn't possible. Stock in B&J's is not offered separately.

Some of their flavors and names have been created by customers, who, as reward, earn a lifetime of free Ben and Jerry's! (Rob is already hard at work...) (Photos of Ben & Jerry's)

We drove to Burlington and balanced our sweet intake with two great sausages on buns from a street cart. I wanted to find Howard Dean's new Democracy for America office, but it turned out to be in South Burlington and we had to get the ferry across Lake Champlain, a large section of the upper Hudson River. And I was sure no one would be there on Sunday.

The waterfront was quite modern and judging by the down at the heel homes just up the hill, it appeared that a sort of urban renewal had taken place on the lake. (Photos of Burlington)

We got in line for the ferry. During the wait, Rob wanted to stay in the car to read Dilbert, but I had been drawn to the local maritime museum. The main project was a classic canal schooner due to be launched on July 3rd! SO, it was mostly finished and HUGE! I enjoyed jawing with one of my fellow wood-boat freaks who was working on it. In 2005, they are planning a trip all the way to New York City! (Photos of the Lois McClure)

I was impressed by the ferry. The one-hour crossing gave us a chance to take in a historical video tape about the history of the lake, which had gone from French to British to American control over the course of two hundred years. Then in the early 1800s, American ferry service started up, not just to cut down on the week-long journey around the lake, but for cargo. When the trains cut in on the action in the late 1800s, ferries became "glamorous" for a time. Then, the more modern boats, faster and less expensive, came into use. At least one of the boats still in use uses the old fashioned communication between the pilot house and engine room, you know, the round white thingy with the polished brass handle.

The "Champlain" was a bit smaller than the "Rhododendron", which runs from Vashon's south end. It was well stocked with tourist items for sale and a few snacks. The day was cool and breezy, so most of the passengers were indoors after a brief look at the view outside.

We drove off the boat into upstate New York and shortly we were driving across a bridge over the very dramatic Ausable Chasm. (Photos of Ausable Chasm) It always amazes me how state lines delineate changes in how a place feels and looks. These changes are often subtle, but here in the buildings and in the landscapes just a bit, we were definitely no longer in Vermont. I'm not even sure how to describe the difference, but Vermont was so consistently quaint. Not so in upstate New York.

We drove around resort-dominated Lake Placid and kept going. We ended up camping on Lake Tupper in an amazing, rustic site with the lake on two sides. (Photo of lake)

May 31 Memorial Day

I love waking up to song birds, and we had quiet all night and song birds in the morning. There were several swallowtail butterflies camping along with us-so beautiful with their yellow, black and touches of red and blue.

We did a lot of driving today, although mostly on rural, secondary roads. The upper edge of New York was a mixture of dilapidated older buildings and a few perfectly restored and maintained ones. There were lush green rolling hills and periodically dense woods in between. The older buildings are a mixture of New England wood frame or Southern Pennsylvania red-brick with white wooden trim. There were some "fixers" that could have made my fingers twitch!

The prior evening, we had seen a trailer with what looked to be white water rafts, so we sought more information at the park office. They didn't know of any rafting companies and so we decided it might be an experience for further west.

I was relieved that we had been able to find places to stay on this holiday weekend. Now that it was over, we decided not to book our stays in advance, except perhaps about the major cities where there are very few places, especially quiet ones. We headed in the direction of Niagra Falls which looked to be about 2-3 hours, but when I asked a guy in a gas station, he said it was more like 4. We'd already been going for a couple of hours, so took a more conservative outlook and a more rural route.

We went north off 104 to Williamson and Pultneyville which turned out ot be charming Lake Ontario small towns and found a marina with a few RV sites. The morning had been clear and sunny, but by late afternoon, it was pouring rain.

We finally finished listening to the TESTAMENT. This is one of John Grisham's longer books and we had been nibbling at it for days. We really got to know the main character, Nate, a lawyer who has a messed up past, with two x-wives, four kids, four "crashes" into treatment and problems with the IRS. His experiences in Brazil's Pontanou (spelling?), which include a plane crash, getting lost during flood season, run-ins with the local tribes and a bout with dengai fever - all to find a Christian missionary who has just been left $11 billion by her estranged father, changes his life around. Add the counter plot of her 6 greedy sibs and their greedy lawyers who were left out of the will altogether and you have quite a story! AND, the legal tactics of Nate's old boss and lawyer of the deceased - oh my!

AND there is a surprise ending to boot! We sat in shock for a while, letting the book settle in our souls. Then, the next thing I know, Rob is reaching for another book, THE LAST JUROR, another much shorter Grisham. We are consuming these like Cape Cod potato chips! (We did take a little breather for Molly Ivins' BUSHWHACKED, but it was too depressing.)

The LAST JUROR is about a young man who moves to a small Mississippi town and takes over the local newspaper which is bankrupt. A local murder is his first big story and puts the paper back on its feet. He takes on the powers that be, including city hall, the parole board and the murderer's nasty lawyer before he is done. He also befriends an amazing black woman, who has 8 kids, 7 of whom have PhDs and are college professors. She becomes one of the jurors for the murder case and has to endure a threat from the convicted along with the others. "Murder" means only 9-10 years and then he is out. Other jurors are being knocked off. A real spellbinder! We polished the whole thing off before bed.

Grisham is an amazing writer. Rob and I are both getting windows into life in the south, legal strategy, experiences in various careers and even life in other countries. His books are written with clarity and beautifully constructed language. The couple of actors who read his works on tape bring them alive with the voices of the different characters, who are distinct and totally believable. Now and then, one of us will push "pause" to discuss something, a legal matter or a hunch about something, or even, "Now who is that?" Rob has said that one of his favorite experiences on the road is driving along with a really good book playing and a bag of Cape Cod potato chips.

2004 Tour Home